Some Things You Have To Do
by Runescribe
Summary: A volunteer arrives uninvited at the school, and soon Logan's world is turned on its head. Spoilers for X3.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** Currently the muse says "Write X-Men fic!", so, ever obedient, I am writing an X-Men fic. The rating is for future violence.

**Disclaimer:** All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

Chapter One 

When Ororo Monroe entered her room after lunch, she was rather startled to find a girl already in there.

She looked about eighteen, and perfectly normal – five foot seven, longish brown hair, pale skin.

"What are you doing in here?"

The girl swallowed. "I let myself in – I picked the lock. Sorry."

"Why?"

"You mean why did I pick the lock, or why am I here?"

"Both. I like people to knock."

"Sorry. I picked the lock because you weren't here, and I wanted to talk to you before anyone else, and I came because, well," she smiled hesitantly, "I hear you're having trouble finding someone to teach math."

By this point Storm was baffled. "You want to teach math? Here?"

"Yeah – I'm older than I look."

"How old? Start from the beginning – who are you?"

"Sorry. My name's Sophie Taylor, but mostly people call me Butcher. Long story," she added hastily. "And to answer your other question, I'm thirty-seven."

"Wow."

Storm was in two minds about this – on the one hand, they really needed a math teacher, but on the other, this was a perfect stranger who had broken into the school.

"Why do you want to teach here?"

The girl – _the woman_, Storm corrected herself, _Sophie_ - shrugged. "I want to teach here because…because these are children who need a math teacher, and because I can't just ignore that, and because," she grimaced, "I look eighteen. Finding work is not the easiest of tasks."

"You're a mutant."

"Well spotted."

"So you don't age – what else? Besides picking locks."

She grinned. "That's not a mutation, it's a skill. I heal quickly, and I can heal other people."

This was a strange person, Storm thought. Was she nervous or wasn't she? This was a decision the Professor should have been making. He'd have known if this Sophie could be trusted.

"What if I said yes?"

"I'd say 'Yippee!', and ask when I should start."

"What if I said no?"

She looked away. "I'd be very disappointed, and I'd say, well, that's reasonable, and I'd leave."

Still unconvinced, Storm decided that she couldn't decide yet. "You can stay for now. We'll see how things work out. But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep away from the basement."

"Until you can be sure I'm trustworthy?" She smiled. "You don't actually have to answer that."

"I'll find you a room," Storm said hurriedly.

Butcher looked out of the window of her new room. _Nice view._

She shoved her few belongings into a corner to deal with later, squared her shoulders, and turned to face the door and the rest of the school. _Time to face the music._

As the students drifted in to the dining hall, they glanced with mild curiosity at the girl talking to Storm.

"Hey Bobby, do you know who that is?" asked Kitty.

"No, I've never seen her before. Is she a new student?"

"Must be. How can you eat that stuff?"

"You mean, carrots?"

"Carrots. Yuck."

Similar conversations were taking place all over the hall when Storm rose from her seat and knocked on the table for quiet.

"As you all know, recent events have left us a bit short of teachers. In light of that fact, I'm pleased to introduce Sophie Taylor, also known as Butcher. She has kindly agreed to teach you for a trial period."

Excited chatter broke out.

"But, Storm, she's not…"

"Not what, Artie?"

"She's not grown up!"

Butcher glanced at Storm for permission, and answered, "I'm older than I look, quite a lot older. I'm to teach you math and the three sciences, and I hope you'll persuade Storm to let me stay." She winked. "She isn't quite sure she likes me after my somewhat unorthodox entrance."

Leaving the children to wonder what that "unorthodox" meant, she sat down again. Storm cleared her throat.

"Lessons in math and science will begin on Monday. Any questions? Jubilee."

"Is Ms Taylor a mutant?"

"Yes, she's a healer. Flea."

"Can she heal my foot?" His friends laughed.

"Ask her nicely later. Anyone else? No? Then I'll let you finish in peace."

Storm sat, and glared at Butcher. "Unorthodox?"

Flea winced as he pulled his sock off so Butcher could examine the hurt foot.

"Nasty bruise. What did you do to it?"

"_I_ didn't do anything to it. Colossus landed on me."

Peter, hearing his name, glanced across the room. "So dodge!"

"I couldn't! You were in the way – hey!" The bruise on his foot was fading from purple to greenish, and swiftly vanished completely. "Thanks miss!"

Butcher winced. _Am I a miss now?_ "Please, it's Butcher. 'Miss' makes me feel I have to be sensible."

"Why do they call you Butcher?"

"It's a joke. Butchers take things apart; I put them back together again. I'll admit it's not a _good_ joke, but the name has stuck."

"How old are you, mi-Butcher? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"I don't mind. I'm thirty-seven. How old are you?"

"Twelve, but I'll be thirteen in six weeks."

Butcher straightened up. "Well, mister nearly-thirteen, next time watch where Colossus is putting his feet."

She left the common room and headed for the grounds.

Butcher leant against a tree, and let herself shudder out all her nervousness. She hated meeting strangers, and she especially hated meeting lots of strangers at once. But they wouldn't be strangers for long. She'd deal with it. She could cope. She could also hear someone behind her, and looked around the tree. It was a couple of students kissing in the shadows. Nothing to worry about. _That, however…_

There were three parallel cuts in the bark.

_Yes!_

**A/N** Why is she there? Why is she so happy to see a mutilated tree? Will she get to stay? All will be revealed. It is even possible it will be revealed in the next chapter. Reviews gratefully accepted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

**Chapter Two**

_Yes! Yes! He's here! He's here!_

No, calm down. Calm down. Stop it. He's been here, at some point, that doesn't mean he still is. Come to that, it might be Jimmy – too big for that. He was here.

Resting a hand on the cuts in the tree, Butcher closed her eyes, hardly daring to hope. She might see him again. _And he might not remember you, and if he doesn't… _She ached at the thought of what she'd have to do.

She set off through the trees, skirting the couple still oblivious to her, looking for any clues to when he'd been here, for how long, where he was, anything. Night found her, very frustrated, with nothing but some more claw-marks and a duty to return to the mansion before lights-out.

Butcher unpacked, found her notebook and methodically noted her findings. _Scratches in a tree. Some finding._

Two doors down, Storm wrote an e-mail to Hank McCoy, asking for advice.

In the dormitories, the students wilfully disobeyed the no-talking rule. The main topic of conversation was, of course, the imminent Superbowl, but the new teacher came a close second.

Fifty miles away, the mutant known as the Wolverine lit a cigar and drained a bottle. If he drank enough, he could overwhelm his metabolism, get drunk enough to sleep through the night. To the old nightmares he'd added new ones, of Jean killing the professor, of being helpless in Magneto's grip, of the sound his claws had made as they sliced into Jean's body, the glimpse of Jean, his Jean again as she died…

"Gimme another beer."

Next morning found the older children making full use of their Saturday morning to sleep. The younger ones, however, were wide awake, and had talked Butcher into thinking up a new game. As that was just what Storm had said would happen, she let herself be persuaded and set them to filling up several dozen water balloons.

When they returned from the woods just after noon, even the sleepiest had been roused by the gleeful shrieks of waterbomb battles, and Artie's team had defended their 'fort' so effectively that Artie himself was dripping wet, have been the victim of a vengeful ambush.

Storm gazed in mock horror at the hot, wet and happy children.

"What did you do?"

Butcher grinned. "Lose! Smart kids you have here." She relented. "Paintballing for skinflints. Get a lot of waterbombs, mark out a circle in the woods, put a 'treasure chest' and half the kids in the middle and get the other half to attack. Two hits and you're out. We may have to do it again tomorrow, Katie is determined to have a go defending. She says it's rigged."

Storm smiled. "You thought it up, you deserve to get wet. Is it rigged?"

"It is slightly biased, but it's not a certainty. Especially with these children."

"Yes, it's like that. They still surprise me, and I was one of them." Storm turned to look at Bobby, who was trying, rather bashfully, to ask if he and 'some of the others' could go to a movie that night.

"Who are the others?"

"Um, Rogue, Kitty and Peter."

"You know the rules – back by eleven, no drinking. Don't forget, you have dorm inspection tomorrow. Do it now."

"I will," and he was off to find Rogue, sticking his head around the door to call "Thank-you!"

"Dorm inspection?" asked Butcher.

"Yes, every week. I don't mind what kind of mess they are the rest of the week, but it has to be tidy on Sundays. Peter and Kitty, hmmm?"

"I take it Bobby and Rogue are an item?"

"Since Rogue got here, but it's really taken off since Rogue took the Cure. They couldn't touch before, you see. Some of the other students object to her being here, now that she's human, but the Professor would have let her stay…" Storm stopped, thin-lipped. Rogue was clearly a sore point.

Wolverine paid for his gas and hit the road again. He'd be needed back at the mansion for inspections. Since Jean – his throat closed, and he turned his thoughts from her – Storm couldn't run the school on her own._ Four teachers. They coped fine with four teachers before. They can do it again. I only have to stay til they have four teachers._

**A/N** Next time: e-mails, secrets and the Cornflake Joke. You have been warned. Review! Go on, you know you want to…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** Woohooo! I got reviews! Thanks, all! But sorry, Wolverine isn't Jimmy. You won't find out who Jimmy is yet, though. You will, however, get some clues as to who Butcher is. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

**Chapter Three.**

Storm muddled through the day as best she could, trying to keep tabs on all the students. Butcher was great with the younger kids, but Storm watched her anxiously. She didn't trust her to keep them safe. And the older children might find it distressing that their 'teacher' looked no older than they did…

It was with great relief that she found a reply from Hank waiting on her computer.

Dear Storm 

_An intriguing development. I have pulled strings and had the databases searched, but I can find no information on a Sophie Taylor. Nor has the name Butcher produced results. In the absence of any telepath to give us some surety, I suggest you ask Butcher herself for some personal history. If she can be trusted, she could be exceedingly helpful. You can't do this by yourself, Storm, and while the Wolverine may be an adult presence, he is far from a reliable teacher._

_Keep in touch_

_Hank._

Storm sighed. She needed help, it was true, but she didn't like the thought of letting strangers into the school. Still less a stranger who had let herself in.

Well, I'll get some answers from her tonight, once the kids are settled. She can't expect me to be satisfied with nothing but a fake name.

Later, after dinner had been consumed and the floor liberally covered with brownie crumbs, the children were in the common room, filling a wet evening with games of one sort and another. At some point they got to telling jokes, and soon everyone had joined in.

"What to you call a woman with a coat on her head?"

"I don't know."

"Peg!"

"Alright then, what do you call a man with a seagull on his head?

"Go on…"

"Cliff."

"That's rubbish. Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"He felt like it."

"No, to get to the other side. Why did the sheep cross the road?"

"To talk to the chicken."

"To get to the other side. Why did the cow cross the road?"

"To get to the other side?"

"Right. Why did the farmer cross the road?"

"To get his animals back!"

"No fair, you've heard it before!"

"I have not! Not my fault you tell rubbish jokes!"

"Yeah, why is that better than my joke?"

"Doctor, doctor, I think I'm turning invisible! Next, please."

"Go on Butcher, tell us a joke."

"I don't know any good jokes."

"So tell us a bad one."

"Well…there is the Cornflake Joke."

"What's the Cornflake Joke?"

"Be quiet long enough and you'll find out. Once upon a time, there was a cornflake. He was a very adventurous cornflake-"

"An adventurous cornflake?"

"Yes, an adventurous cornflake. Now this cornflake got bored of living in a box, so he decided to go and explore the big wide kitchen. So he climbed up the inside of the inside packet, down the outside of the inside packet, up the inside of the outside packet and down the outside of the outside packet, and he walked across the worktop until he reached the edge. But when he got the edge he couldn't get down. So he thought 'I know! I'll get some of my friends to help me.' So he climbed up the outside of the outside packet, down the inside of the outside packet, up the outside of the inside packet and down the inside of the inside packet to reach his friends. They agreed to help him reach the floor, so they all climbed-"

"Oh, no…"

"Up the inside of the inside packet, down the outside of the inside packet, up the outside of the outside packet, down the outside of the outside packet and onto the worktop."

By this point people were starting to giggle at the sheer silliness of the story.

"But when they reached the edge, and formed a cornflake chain, the adventurous cornflake was nowhere near the bottom, and they realised they would need all the other cornflakes they had left in the packet. So they chose a messenger, and he went up the outside of the outside packet,"

The children had started to join in.

"Down the inside of the outside packet, up the outside of the inside packet, down the inside of the inside packet and into the box. And after some considerable persuasion, because cornflakes are stubborn and they didn't think it was a good idea, all but one of the cornflakes agreed to come and help the adventurous cornflake. So a whole crowd of cornflakes climbed…"

The children chanted gleefully along, "Up the inside of the inside packet, down the outside of the inside packet, up the inside of the outside packet, down the outside of the outside packet,"

"And onto the worktop. And they trekked across the worktop to the edge. When they looked down, some of them really didn't think this was a good idea, because it was an awfully long way down. But the adventurous cornflake talked them round, and they formed a very long cornflake chain down to the floor. But when the adventurous cornflake climbed down, he was still too far from the bottom. The chain was one cornflake short. So they all clambered back up to the worktop, very irritated, and chose one of the younger cornflakes as a messenger. And he ran across the worktop to the box, and he climbed,"

"Up the outside of the outside packet, down the inside of the outside packet, up the outside of the inside packet, down the inside of the inside packet!"

"And into the box. And he found the last cornflake hiding in a corner. And they argued about whether the cornflake should come and help, and eventually he agreed, not because he wanted to help but because none of the other cornflakes would speak to him if the didn't. And together he and the messenger cornflake climbed…"

"Up the inside of the inside packet! Down the outside of the inside packet! Up the inside of the outside packet! Down the outside of the outside packet!"

"And when they reached the bottom they stopped to get their breath back, because it was a long climb up and down all those packets, and the messenger cornflake had done it twice, and when they had their breath back they trekked across the worktop to the edge. And they all formed a cornflake chain, and the single, adventurous cornflake climbed down it, and finally it was long enough and he reached…the Kitchen Floor."

The children waited with bated breath.

"And so the adventurous cornflake waved at his friends, and even some enemies who had helped because the messenger hadn't told them who they were helping, and he set off across the kitchen floor. And as he crept around the corner, very quietly because the world was bigger than he'd thought and he was getting a bit nervous, he came face to face with – a Mouse!"

The more excitable youngsters gasped.

"But I can't tell you the rest, because it's a serial."

The children burst into shocked laughter.

"That's it? That's dreadful!" accused Katie, giggling.

"Well of course it's dreadful. I told you it was."

"Have you got any others like that?"

"Only the Dracula Joke, and I refuse to sully my lips with a joke of that quality."

"You just told the Cornflake Joke!"

"Good point. I refuse to sully my lips again with a joke of that quality."

"Oh, go on, it was good."

"No, not tonight. Lights out is in ten minutes. And I'm sure some of you still aren't ready for dorm inspection...?"

"I am ready, sort of."

"I'll tell you the Dracula Joke tomorrow. Unless you keep pestering, in which case I won't tell you at all. Bed! Now!"

They did go, with some persuasion. Butcher stretched the kinks out of her back, and turned at the soft sound from the doorway. Storm was smiling.

"That is a very bad joke."

"Gets a laugh, though."

"I want to talk to you. If you're going to stay, there are some things I need to know."

They talked for some time about Butcher's past, but she wouldn't say much.

"I wish I could tell you, Storm, but I can't. It isn't safe, I can't give you details."

"So give me a summary."

"OK…I grew up as part of a scientific study. There were several of us, all with different mutations. They were studying the effect of mutation on the body. They gave us a pretty good education, treated us pretty well for the most part. About a year ago the study ended and the centre we lived at was shut down, and we've had to fend for ourselves. I can't tell you who the others are or where they are, because there are some people who'd quite like to get their hands on us, but the others are nowhere near here. I'm the only one around here, and I'm here for the reasons I gave – these children need a teacher and I can help."

"My friend couldn't find any records on you."

"There aren't any, I don't think. The Centre didn't officially exist, we probably don't either."

Storm sighed. "OK. I believe you, for now. But I'll be keeping an eye on you. This is still not a permanent arrangement. Dorm inspection is at eight tomorrow, before breakfast."

"I'll be there. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

**A/N** Next time: Wolverine finally meets our girl, inspection turns up a surprise, and Jimmy and Mac…are mentioned. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

**Chapter Four**

Storm didn't head upstairs but down. She'd heard Wolverine arriving on his bike, which really was his now, and wanted to tell him about Butcher. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen and the Danger Room was active.

Still trying to tire yourself out?

She wrote him a brief note, saying she'd agreed to try someone as a new teacher and would explain in the morning, taped it to the inside of the elevator where he'd see it and left him to work off his nightmares.

Butcher meanwhile was writing an e-mail. I love broadband connections. Jimmy might not get it for a few days, but he'd want to know about the scratch marks she'd seen. Wish I could go downstairs. Might be more to see…

She tagged a postscript on to tell him not to come south just yet, sent the email, did her stretches out of habit and tried to sleep.

Next morning dawned right on schedule, to the sounds of overenthusiastic birds and teenagers who would rather sleep. Butcher was up, dressed and ready in plenty of time for the excitement of dorm inspection.

"We only do the girls," explained Storm, "A colleague does the boys, you'll meet him later. The rules are simple: beds made, floors clear and clean, everything put away."

"Even schoolwork?"

"Schoolwork they can leave on their desks. And do, without exception. Ready?"

"When you are."

The dorms were in the state one might expect. Almost everyone had something unfinished, most of them stopping work only when the door was opened, but only one room was actually required to do the job again.

"Rogue, what part of 'do your room before you go out' did you fail to understand?"

"Sorry, I was in a hurry…" Matching actions to words, she tidied like lighting. Clothes into drawers, books onto shelves – small plastic box inside glove?

"Rogue, what's that?"

"It's nothing, Storm, it's just – it's nothing."

"Just what, Rogue?"

Rogue bit her lip as Storm retrieved the object.

"Rogue, this is what they were using in the cure guns."

"It's insurance. Just in case."

"Where did you get it?"

Rogue said nothing.

"Fine. I shall destroy it."

"You can't!"

"If I don't know where it's from, I can't be sure it's safe."

"Peter gave it to me, last night, he brought it back from Alcatraz. I didn't ask him to! He said the cure works like a vaccine, and lots of vaccines need boosters or they stop working, and he said – he said he understood why I needed the cure, so he got me that so it wouldn't ever wear off. I'm only supposed to use it if my powers come back."

Storm looked at Butcher. "You're the scientist. Is she right?"

"The cure is an artificial antibody. It's certainly conceivable that a second dose might be needed eventually. In a drawer, however, is not the place to keep it."

Storm nodded. "I'm taking this, Rogue."

"No – Storm – please…"

"It isn't safe, Rogue! What if someone found it, what if one of the kids found it? You may have chosen to be human. That doesn't give you the right to put other people in danger!"

She sighed, realising how frightened her student was. "I'll put it in the lab. It was your choice to make, I guess I have to respect that. If your powers come back, you'll get your injection."

Rogue nodded wordlessly.

"Meanwhile, young lady, your room is still not tidy."

In the boy's wing, Wolverine was concluding his own inspections. These were done to the same standard as Storm's, but involved more sarcasm. But, as he was more lenient than Cyclops had ever been about mess between times, they didn't complain.

Breakfast was a lively affair, as it was every Sunday. It was the one day when all the children were properly awake. Wolverine sat with Storm and ate bacon sandwiches.

"So who's this new geek then?"

"You mean the new teacher?"

He rolled his eyes.

"She appeared on Friday. She picked the lock to my room and announced she was here to, well, volunteer, I suppose."

"What's her name?"

"Sophie Taylor, but I'm fairly certain it's fake – Hank couldn't find any records of her anywhere."

"What's she look like?"

"She looks eighteen, says it's her mutation and she's thirty seven. She's white, has blue eyes and wears her hair in a braid. The little ones love her already, mostly because she let them have a waterfight in the grounds."

"What about the older ones, what do they think?"

"I don't know. It might bother them that she looks their age."

"We'll soon find out. You hired her?"

"I told her she was on probation."

"Fair enough." He stood, brushed crumbs from his lap and grabbed his jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to her, where else?"

Butcher was at that moment halfway up a willow tree. She'd thought she saw more scratches, but it was just the way the bark had grown. She looked down at the sound of footsteps.

"You wanna come down so I can see you?"

Ice drenched her spine. What if he remembered her? What if he didn't?

Logan.

She swung herself off the branch and dropped neatly onto the grass.

Wolverine stared as she straightened. He knew her. He knew he knew her.

"You must be the Wolverine," she said, white-faced.

Logan paled as the sound of her voice, the sight of her, opened a door in his mind, and suddenly he knew who she was, who he was, he remembered all he had lost as if he had never lost it and he held her as though she were a part of him.

"Sophie!"

**A/N** I know, it's a mean place to finish the chapter. It will all make sense eventually. Long talks, math lessons and the Danger Room coming up, although possibly not immediately. Reviews would be much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

**Chapter Five.**

Sophie.

He drew back and stared at her, speechless.

"You remember me?" Her cheeks were wet.

"I do – I didn't – I'm sorry, I left you there, I'm sorry-"

"It's alright, it's OK, it wasn't your fault, they made you forget-"

"How long?"

"We got out about a year ago, the week before the President was attacked."

"And Jimmy," he asked hoarsely, "What about Jimmy?"

"They did him. They did him after you escaped but Logan, he's OK, he survived and he escaped with us."

"And…" he frowned. "There are four of us. I know that. And I know what he looks like, but I don't, I can't remember…"

"Mac."

He smiled. "Mac. Mac, short for McHeath. I do remember. Where are they?"

"Up north, near Chicago. I'll email Jimmy, they'll come down."

"Good. I need to see them."

"They need to see you." Sophie looked at him as though she couldn't believe he was real, and slowly held up a hand. Like a very formal hi-five he laid his own palm against hers. Her eyes shone. "Oh, I've missed you."

"Are we going to tell them?"

Logan thought about it. "No."

"Oh good. I thought you might have wanted to tell Storm."

He shook his head. "She'd want to tell the furball – Hank McCoy – and he'd go digging. We'd be all over the news in no time. I'll tell her I think we can trust you."

Sophie nodded. "She'll ask why. Instinct?"

"Instinct."

Wolverine strode back to the mansion, his thoughts racing as his life, all the befores and all that had happened after came into focus. He caught Storm on her way past. "I think we can trust her."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Instinct. I just think we can trust her."

"That's less than helpful, Logan. You don't know her."

"Nor do you, why are you so sure she's a threat?"

"Because I don't know why she's here. I don't know her motives."

"I trust her. Whether you do or not is your problem."

Storm suppressed a sharp retort as Wolverine left. He was so irritating sometimes!

The rest of the day passed Butcher in a blur. Nothing mattered next to this. She kept having to stop herself from staring at Wolverine and giving the game away. People will think we're lovers. The younger students insisted on hearing the Dracula joke, so she told it, aware all the time of Wolverine leaning on the doorframe. She emailed Jimmy, saying simply "He's here. He remembers. It's safe," knowing that he and Mac would come as soon as they read it. Finally night came, and she and Logan could talk.

"Tell me what they did to Jimmy."

"Same as you. Metal on all his bones, and the claws. But they did something else, too. They put some kind of flexible armor under his skin, below his ribcage. Punch him in the stomach and you'll break your hand. That was thirteen years ago. He stopped growing the year after you escaped, but they left it a couple of years to be sure. Since you left, they started sending us on missions – steal this, deliver that. They never used us as assassins. We think they thought we would refuse."

"How did you get out?"

"They had us training in the woods. We killed the soldiers and just kept running."

They talked for hours, Sophie filling Logan in on all that had happened since his memory had been taken. His story, by unspoken agreement, was left until the others arrived. Storm was baffled. Logan never said two words to anyone, and there he was in a stranger's bedroom, apparently doing nothing but talking. Is she a telepath? Finally she dismissed that idea on the grounds that a telepath would have stopped her getting suspicious to start with, told herself to stop worrying and went to sleep.

Jimmy picked up both emails that night, and could hardly contain his joy as he rushed back to where Mac was waiting.

"She's found him! Butcher found the Wolverine at the school!"

Mac punched the air in triumph.

"Come on, start the car!"

Jimmy jiggled impatiently as Mac coaxed the jeep's engine into life. On the third attempt it started and he was pushed laughing into his chair as Mac hit the gas.

Mac drove like a madman, ignoring all the speed limits. Jimmy was fidgeting as always but this time he could hardly be blamed. The thought of being together again broke even Mac's legendary calm.

**A/N** Will Storm ever stop worrying? Will the secret stay secret? Will we ever have a math lesson? Find out in the next exciting instalment!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

**Chapter Six**

He rolled onto his back and slipped into a nightmare.

"Bring one. I don't care which one."

Stryker strode out of the room, and everything happened at once. The soldiers drew their guns; Mac pushed Jimmy into a corner and put himself in front, teeth bared; Butcher unsheathed her blades ready to fight; and Logan realised what he would have to do. They wouldn't stop. There were too many of them, and they wouldn't stop until either he or Jimmy was captive. And it couldn't be Jimmy. He was still growing, it couldn't be him or he'd die. Logan turned to the others and saw his own sick dread in their faces. "Logan?" Jimmy whispered, eyes wide.

"See you, kid," he said, and let the soldiers cuff him. He wanted to say more, say goodbye, but they were dragging him backwards and already the door had closed. Now he fought them, kicking and biting until a rifle butt sent him into blackness.

Sophie sat on her windowsill, breathing the night air and remembering.

Remembering the last time she'd seen Logan, letting them take him so that Jimmy would have a few more years grace before they took him, too, and the sounds of his hopeless struggle coming through the door.

And the first time she'd seen him, her earliest memory, when he was still a child himself but had seemed so tall to her, and had carried her across the courtyard to save her bare feet from the snow.

And all the times in between, fighting with him in training, lessons that she'd loved and he'd just found dull, hearing his crying when they had taken Mac and his laughter when he had returned alive, the awful look in his eyes when she'd been taken because he knew now what they were going to do and hated it, and how hard it had been to look at him when she came back because he looked so joyous to have her back and at the same time there was horror in his eyes.

And now here he was again, the fourth side of the square, the final part of a machine that didn't work without him. He was older, true; sixteen years alone had changed him, true; but he was still Logan, and neither pain nor time could break the ties that held them together.

She woke the next day to see Logan's head around her door. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he teased. "You'll miss breakfast."

She pulled the blankets over her head. "Don't care. Need sleep."

"Need breakfast so you can teach math to sleepy teenagers. I thought you should never volunteer?"

"Had to. Clear off. Save me bacon."

He shut the door obediently, and she threw on some clothes and followed him downstairs.

By the time nine o'clock came around, she was just about awake. The same could not be said of some of her students, who had apparently become zombies overnight. She was so nervous her knees were wobbly, but she carried on. None of them were mathematical geniuses, of course, but they were at least willing to learn. She did have to stop herself snapping at them a couple of times – these children, she reminded herself, could not be expected to have either her brains, or the discipline she had had at their age. They hadn't grown up on a military base.

Miles away, the man now known only as Erik struggled to keep three quarters in the air. He was juggling with them, trying to speed up the return of his abilities, but it didn't seem to be helping. He gritted his teeth as the coins slipped from his grasp, leaving him with nothing but a headache for his trouble. Soon, he was sure, he'd be back to full power again – and then the X-Men would pay!

Closer to the mansion, but still far away, the woman now known as Raven Darkholme fought to use her own power, and smiled in triumph as a barely perceptible pink flush crept over her blue fingers. Soon, she promised herself, soon she would be at full strength, change her appearance as easily as she breathed – and then Erik would pay!

In the school itself, Wolverine was arguing with Storm. "She must know about the Danger Room by now, the kids will have told her."

"I still don't want her wandering about downstairs."

"She won't be. Look, I'll take her down, we'll do the Danger Room session, I'll bring her back up. There won't be any wandering."

Storm sighed. "Alright. But keep an eye on her."

The Danger Room, Butcher thought, was possibly the greatest invention of the century. She itched to see the schematics and figure out how it worked. More than that, though, she wanted to fight, and that wish was swiftly granted as Wolverine split them into pairs and had them battle each other. She obeyed with glee, eyes alight with battle-fever. Wolverine was using his weight to hold Colossus off and trying to keep his balance as old skills returned. Distracted, Butcher forgot herself and punched Rogue harder than she should have, and the girl staggered backwards clutching her bruised rib. "It's not broken," Butcher told her cheerfully. "Little bruise like that gonna stop you saving the world?" Rogue shook her head and attacked again, concentrating so hard that she didn't notice Butcher healing the injury when their skin touched.

When the class had finished and the children had returned breathless to the common room, the adults did not follow. Storm gritted her teeth and went downstairs, certain that Logan had forgotten his promise and was showing his new friend around. Honestly, you'd think he was a kid. I'll wring his neck if he's told her about the X-Men. Her anger was lessened slightly when she realised that her missing colleagues were still inside the Danger Room. What are they doing in there? He's surely not fighting her? He was, barehanded, with surprising lack of restraint. Storm winced at the force of the blows. What did she do, call him names? He'll hurt her.

"Watch out!"

Logan sheathed his claws at Storm's shout, but not before she had seen how Butcher parried the attack. There was a gleaming blade jutting outwards from each of her wrists. I'm going to kill him for this.

_**A/N** Thanks for all the lovely reviews. More, please!_


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